


dance, dance

by thestandoff



Category: Covert Affairs
Genre: F/M, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestandoff/pseuds/thestandoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt “They go undercover (a classic!) on a mission which requires them to dance. I don't even want a kiss, just dancing and lots of UST.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance, dance

**Author's Note:**

> Written before and is unrelated to the dance scene of Season Three.

Well, it’s better than being a call girl, Annie thought.

This time, she was posing as a member of a famous Russian ballet company that traveled the world performing. Apparently, being svelte, blonde, and capable of saying more than “Where is the bathroom?” in Russian qualified Annie as being passable as a Russian ballerina in the CIA’s eyes. Her mission was to get close to the owner of the traveling company, known only as ‘Andrei,’ whom the CIA suspected of global weapons trading under the front of going on tour with his dance troupe.

Annie was pretty sure that there were other options to taking this man down; after all, he didn’t pay attention to his cover enough to realize that there was an extra girl in his caravan. Joan, however, deemed it necessary for Annie to infiltrate; Annie was beginning to wonder if her undercover missions served as the entertainment portion of everyone’s day over at the DPD.

One good aspect of this particular mission was that Auggie was able to enter the field with her as well. Apparently, it was a tradition for Andrei to take all of the girls out to some swanky restaurant the night before their performance. These nights generally all ended the same way, Annie learned from eavesdropping on the other girls: Andrei got comfortable, and then proceeded to get completely drunk. The girls, who knew nothing of Andrei’s true motives, were professional enough to refrain from getting drunk the night before a performance. This didn’t stop them, however, from seeking out some handsome (see also: rich) male company when they could, and many of them went MIA until the next afternoon, when they would wander into rehearsal with a coy smile and the clothes they were wearing the night before.

This interaction allowed Auggie to meet up with Annie, and so, after 5 days with the company, Andrei announced that he was taking the girls out before their big night, and Annie was able to find Auggie at a table in the restaurant after Andrei had successfully drank his way through the vodka supply of the bar’s liquor cabinet. In order to fit in with the posh mood of the restaurant, Auggie was in a three-piece suit, to Annie’s (pleasant) surprise. His slim black pants led up to a crisp white button-down shirt and black tie, covered by a silky-looking vest under a spiffy suit jacket.

Needless to say, Annie approved.

She sat down with Auggie and briefed him on all she had learned; the weapons cache was stored with the staging equipment, his client in D.C. was primarily concerned with military-grade machine artillery, and she would probably never get her feet to work the right way again after spending hours every day pirouetting. Auggie had grinned at the last bit, and told her that between the information she had found out and his own tech work back at the DPD, they had enough to catch Andrei in the act the next night. Mission accomplished, good job, be back at the office by tomorrow afternoon to be debriefed.

That was when FBI agent Rusabbi entered the restaurant, not-at-all subtle, with a gun hooked into the belt of his pants.

When she relayed this information to Auggie, he frowned. This was a CIA mission; the FBI should most definitely not be here, especially when they were so close to completing it. Auggie immediately blamed Jai Wilcox for tipping them off and being an all-around douchebag, while Annie just sighed; convincing Rusabbi she was a call girl had been easy enough, but after she and Auggie had been caught in the morgue, he had gotten suspicious, and she was pretty sure that even he would figure out that most D.C. call girls weren’t also Russian ballerinas in their spare time.

This was going to be an issue.

.

Why the FBI had chosen that moment or that location was beyond Annie (she was forced to hush Auggie when he declared loudly that Jai was openly cockblocking the CIA from completing their missions; no doubt trying to make a point to Joan, listening via hidden microphone under his collar) but she knew she had to act fast. The four FBI suits that followed Rusabbi were trying to blend in, to avoid alerting Andrei to their presence or scaring any of the dancers off before they could question them, but these Russian girls knew fashion and Annie knew it wouldn’t be long before the feds were called out on their forty dollar suits in this ostentatiously expensive restaurant.

The tables in the restaurant had dim lighting, no doubt to ‘set the mood’ for its rich clientele, which allowed Annie enough time to survey the room before being noticed. Rusabbi had zeroed in on Andrei, (not too hard considering he had progressed to singing Russian folk both very loudly and very badly) and he had taken a seat across from him at the bar. Behind him were two of his men, ready to take Andrei down once the signal was given. The other two suits had begun canvassing the tables and circling the room, ready to assist if the takedown got messy and also making sure no one left the room.

Annie was sure that she and Auggie could take down the two men on the perimeter while the other three were distracted with Andrei. Doing so in the restaurant, however, would lead to their covers being blown and panic for the other wealthy guests who witnessed the fight, ending with the CIA having to spin some major damage control. Annie and Auggie, to make it out of this, would have to leave out the grand entrance at the other side of the room, drawing the men outside where they could subdue them and escape into the CIA-issued car that was waiting outside to pick up Auggie. The problem would be crossing the hardwood dancefloor in the middle of the restaurant without being noticed. Having a foreign dancer suddenly rush out the door would be suspicious, and Rusabbi would definitely take notice of Auggie once he pulled out his cane.

They were going to have to get creative.

“Auggie, what’s the easiest way to cross the dancefloor without arousing the suspicion of Rusabbi’s cronies?”

Auggie blinked once, slowly. Then, a smile formed on his face.

“I mean, if we attempt a rush, the CIA will have to clean up the mess with all these important D.C. people, and Joan is not going to want to deal with that.”

The smile grew wider. “Annie—“

“And we can’t use the windows to our advantage being twelve stories up,”

Auggie was full-out grinning now.  “Annie, I think—“

“And this place doesn’t have a fire escape, which is probably in violation of a few building codes,”

“ANNIE!” Auggie yelled.

“WHAT, Auggie? I’m trying to plan our escape here!”

“You learned how to salsa dance while undercover in Spain last month, right?”

“Yeah. It was part of my cover as an attendee of that drug lord’s daughter’s wedding.” Annie responded. She didn’t know why Auggie was bringing up past missions while the FBI agents were getting ever closer. Then it hit her.

Annie sighed, while Auggie practically radiated sunshine from his smile. Her feet were  _really_  going to hurt after this mission.

.

Of course, Annie thought. Of course August Anderson, born in Illinois as the youngest of five boys and blinded in Iraq from an explosion, knew how to salsa dance. That made perfect sense.

Auggie was still grinning like the cat that ate the kitten-heel-wearing canary.

“Come on, Annie! It’s perfect! We cross the floor without setting off Rusabbi’s watchdogs, I don’t draw any attention by pulling out my cane, and you get to show off what that ballerina workout has done for you these past few days. Everybody wins. And that’s not even mentioning,” Auggie added,” that you are definitely wearing the right shoes to salsa. Are they the black Louboutins tonight?”

“Red,” Annie replied, and Auggie winked at her.

“Perfect. Red might just be my favorite color. Vamos a bailar, Señorita.”

And with that statement, said in a perfect Spanish accent, (Again, when did he learn how to do that? Annie was going to have some serious questions for him later, the most pressing one being if he had secretly planned this all along) Auggie stood, brushed off his pants, and linked his arm in hers. She led him over to where the plush rug met the hardwood of the dancefloor. They weren’t alone; two other couples, made up of a businessman and a ballerina, were doing some type of salsa dance to the Latin music that was piped through the ornate ceiling. There was also one other couple on the floor, but the man had appeared to have had one too many drinks that night, and their dancing looked less like a salsa and more like a sex act. Annie took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and turned to face Auggie. He may have been taller than her, but the heels helped to close the distance and she found herself face to face with him. She reached out and pulled on his tie, tightening it and feeling the smooth black satin flow through her fingers; he always wore it just a bit too loose.

Auggie reached up and laced her fingers with his, leaving the tie to fall on the outside of his vest. His other hand slid down the side of her dress before stopping at her hip; she was hoping that his slightly-tighter-than-necessary grip was due to the fact that he didn’t have his cane to guide him, and not because he could feel the tension that had suddenly formed between them due to being so close. Her right hand found his shoulder, where underneath his fancy jacket, vest, and shirt, she could still feel the muscle, strong and sure and warm. Auggie’s grin had been replaced by a smirk, and Annie tried to ignore the shiver that his change in demeanor had given her. Salsa was about control; having it, losing it, giving it over to another. August Anderson, having lost all control over his life after his accident, was forced to regain it slowly, relearning everything just to keep up with the world. Now, in this moment, he was confident beyond words, and Annie wondered if she was, yet again, in over her head on a mission.

He brought his suit-clad leg forward, brushing against Annie’s bare one and forcing hers back. Before she could respond, he spun her around, pulling her close enough to his chest for her to realize that he had a distinct smell despite wearing no cologne; he was a mix of new suit fabric, coffee beans and something uniquely Auggie. He spun her out and then pulled her close again, his leg stepping in between two of hers so that she could feel the fabric of his pants brush against her thigh.  She tried to take this opportunity to turn the tables on him; to pretend that he wasn’t leaving her breathless. She leaned closer to him, lifted her other leg up and hooked it around the back of his calf, making sure he could feel the kitten heel that he loved so much digging into his skin.

His smirk was back, tugging on the side of his lips.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Annie.”

Annie could hear the amusement in his voice, and her competitive side kicked in. She wasn’t going to let him get away with all the fun tonight. They broke from their pose and continued their dance, strutting and spinning their way across the hardwood floor. When Auggie straightened up and pulled her close again, Annie took her chance. She twisted, suddenly, and stuck her right leg inside of Auggie’s. Her left leg came up again, but instead of touching the back of his calf, she wrapped it tightly around his waist, pressing their bodies together from the ribs downward. She waited then, for his next move in this chess game of a dance, and wondered if he could feel her heart pounding against her chest through all the layers he was wearing.

His smirk had disappeared with a sharp intake of breath when her leg had wrapped around him, and Annie thought she had won this particular battle. All that changed, however, when he stepped backwards; shifting all of her weight onto him and forcing her to lean on him for support. With her right leg now stretched out behind her, she was helpless when he turned sharply, dipping her backwards like a damsel in an old movie and holding her almost parallel to the floor. His grip on her tightened as he leaned forward and whispered.

“Close, but not quite.”

Annie was at a loss. The grip that Auggie had on her was tight, and short of breaking out a judo move, she wasn’t going to be able to take control of the situation. Her breathing was irregular now, in this embrace, and Annie was sure that Auggie was able to hear it, mixed with her rapid heartbeat. Smirk back in place, Auggie twisted back slightly, lifting Annie back up enough for her ear to be at the same level as his mouth. He moved forward enough for her to feel his lips pressed against the shell of her ear, and spoke in a voice lower than his usual.

“Guess what, Annie?”

Annie was quite sure that this was not the time for guessing games, as she was trying to remember how to breathe after his question sent a thrill through her. She took a shaky breath.

“Wh-what, Auggie?”

Like a flash, Annie found herself standing upright and in front of Auggie again as he twisted back around, just like they had started. She stumbled, slightly, and he closed the gap between them by pulling her forward with the hand gripping her waist.

“We’re at the door. Time to go.”

And with that, he let her go; turning her around and placing his hand lightly around her waist, while with the other one taking out his cane and leading the way out of the restaurant.


End file.
